Princess Anorexia
by The Sacred Pandapuff
Summary: 51 days. 1224 hours. 73440 minutes. 4406400 seconds and B could see the world shattering around him, staining the walls and his hands in a sticky red, floor a sea of blood and people walking on it mere visitors beyond the grave. AB BL Oneshot.


**A/N:** I don't think I've ever putten as much emotion and dedication in my work as I did with this. I almost cried at several parts. Maybe I just tried to get my bad feelings out. By writing something as odd as this. What a way to express myself.  
Well, firstly I wanted to write some BxA because _Death note rewrite 2: L's successors_ had two small parts with a little glimpse of B. I also suspect that at the part where L's talking to the Wammy's children, the blonde child wearing too big white shirt, blue pants and having a blonde hair, sitting his knees up next to the standing B might be A. So I did this.

This also matters to me a lot. The anorexia thing at least, I'm 98 percent sure that one of my friends is anorexic. And it fucking hurts.  
Also, I think a poem "Prinsessa Anoreksia" (a Finnish poem, I got to analyze it on Finnish class) inspired this a bit. It just sort of got stuck in my head.

I made it to be cruel. Painful. There are parts I'm not happy about and parts that didn't even end up in this fic that I would've wanted to. But it still matters to me. Not to mention it's damn long, 25 pages with Word. So yeah. That's a lot from me.

About their ages: they keep changing. I think at only one part their current age for the scene is mentioned. Or B's is anyway. I've been thinking that A would be a year older. In the end... A'd be 17-18 and B 16-17. So pretty young, but old enough to understand what's going on around them and in them.

A's real name and that codename is speculated by me. It's never mentioned anywhere.

I think they're both a bit too innocent in this but hey: they're still children. They haven't snapped for the good yet. B isn't that freaky yet. Though I still find him a bit like that. It really depends how you look at it.

Nothing else to say really that comes in my mind now. Try to enjoy it.

**Edit1:** Spelling mistakes fixed. At least the ones I've found for now. Find more? Mind telling?

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Death note or Another note. The characters B, A and L and Wammy's house are the creation of Tsugumi Ohba, Takeshi Obata and NisioisiN.

* * *

**PRINCESS ANOREXIA**

The world around him glittered with the droplets and pools of the liquid crystal, water, moonlight shining to them, making them reflect its silver glow in a gorgeous manner. The rain was still pounding, rather harshly too, making awful, threatening voices that rang in a small boy's ears. The boy was clinging to himself while fearing that the ceiling of the fancy, dark limousine he was in would be broken and shattered on him, the rain pinning him to his seat and overtaking him with its suffocating, relentless force, drowning him right there.

Suffocation. The most painful way to die.

He didn't want that… No, he didn't want that… At least most of him didn't want that. His life had just started to look a little brighter after all. Or darker. He didn't know. He was confused. His mind was spinning, thoughts screaming in his head, flashes, memories, thoughts… It was all a big, unorganized mess and it was hard to connect the right threads of thoughts to each others.

A cold shiver ran up his spine and he closed his tired, scarlet eyes, bangs hiding them. He escaped from the world, mind thoughtless, _free_, and collected himself. He opened his eyes again and let his pale, long fingers run on the surface of the cold glass, smeared with water on the other side.

The surface of the glass was cool, sucking heat from his already coldish fingers. He just stared and left his hand there. He pressed his whole palm against the glass, examining it, feeling it, giving it his own warmth.

…He had seen them die. He had wished for them to die, and now they were dead. Now he was finally free, free of the screaming, blaming, accusing, beating and starving. He wasn't surrounded by fear and disgust. He was _free_. All alone. It was all like he had wanted it to be.

Except for one thing.

He wasn't alone. He hadn't been alone for long, he hadn't been left by himself and forgotten, he wasn't abandoned like he had wished. He had been taken. So here he was now: sitting in the fancy, black car with an old man whose hair was already starting to catch up with his age, being partly grey, and a nice suit on him, completed with a purple tie. For most of the time he had been quiet, leaving him with his thoughts. But while not really knowing anything about the man, he had to admit that he had really nice and warm eyes. They were calming. He hadn't raised his voice or hand against him, nor had he made any comment of the crimson, wide eyes staring up at him, above him, and the intelligence they held behind them. The knowledge.

He had just been calmly and warmly said that it was time to go to a new place. A new place with new friends, not that he would've had any in years, new and better schooling system, which wasn't really that hard to manage in Beyond's opinion, his studies had always been way too easy for him, and a new home.

A new home.

He didn't like the sound of home. He hated that place.

But at least there hadn't been a mention of a new family. That calmed him down. No new parents calling him a devil after he had come to them with a dead rat in his hands, one he had killed so it wouldn't scare his mother. Or the way he had been counting down the numbers above people's heads, many times asking his parents what they thought would happen when they'd reach zero.

He had his answer now.

Scary, yes. But for some reason, he found it a good thing too. He could avoid people dying too soon on him, he could escape the pain of a loss and he could be prepared when the time would come.

It was just simple mathematics: just a mere countdown for a perhaps nonexistent afterlife. It had no meaning to him, not with the minimal amount of human contacts and having no one important to him. And he couldn't see his own lifespan either, so that was it. No need to think about it further. Maybe he was already dead and for some reason still lived, labelled with that odd name. Or maybe he really was a devil or a god's son to observe the world, seeing through his unique and twisted eyes.

For all he knew… they didn't matter.

Simple mathematics never mattered.

It was the complicated ones that did.

The car pulled over and Beyond peaked curiously out of the window, still silent, and saw a mansion rising up from the enormous grounds of wet, muddy grass and trees with shrivelling leaves, some piled up and some scattered around.

The old man rose from the car and opened a black umbrella before opening the door for Beyond and motioning for him to step out. He did so quietly and stepped under the umbrella the man was holding, hoping to avoid the wet little droplets like acid.

He was offered a hand to hold, but he ignored it. The car's doors were closed and locked before the man started leading him towards the huge, elegant front doors.

The doors opened with a small creak like in any other old house. They stepped in and were immediately hit by the flashing, golden lights. Beyond felt like he'd melt there, eyes stinging after the sudden change of the amount of light he could see and he blinked for a few times, face still blank. He saw the elegant furniture and a child sitting in chair quietly, blonde hair rising a bit from the front, soft features, pale. His eyes were light green, a rinse of milky chocolate at the edge of his iris, making them contrast each others nicely. They also became the most unique eyes Beyond had ever seen.

If he wouldn't count his own, of course.

The boy on the chair smiled. An innocent, excited, happy smile.

"Hi! I'm A! Ascension. Who are you?" he said as he jumped up from the chair and eyed him curiously. Beyond was staring above his head to the letters.

_No. You aren't A Ascension. __You're Autumn Ayers. Why do you lie to me..?_

The boy seemed lonely. Lonely just like him. But he wasn't like him, he was purer, so much purer. There was no way that this boy right in front of him would behold such an evil story or power he was cursed with.

Not that it mattered a thing for Beyond. He opened his mouth to speak when the old man put his hand on his shoulders, motioning him to stay quiet for now.

"This is B. Backup", he said. "We use code names here. For safety reasons. And you can also consider it a fresh start. Leaving who you were and the nightmares of your past behind."

…_Backup…_

Maybe it was when he learned what that name really stood for that he started to really lose it.

* * *

The school was pretty great. It actually managed to keep him busy enough to distract his rotten thoughts of things for most of the time. Even during his first day there, he was given problematic math equations and mind challengers that he actually had to study for and think while he did them. He remembered the sudden confusion that had hit him when he had realised that there wasn't even one equation in the paper in front of him that he fully understood and was able to solve without opening his book.

What made it even more embarrassing was the way A took out his pencil in an almost bored manner and started writing to the paper. Other children were counting too, some sometimes stopping to check a page from the book or asking for help from the teacher.

B was stunned. He had always been good at maths. He had always been the best. His intelligence level had always surpassed those around him and now he was facing the humiliation of being the worst at the class. He quietly focused all his energy to try to prove himself worthy, reading bits and pieces from the book, trying to deduce things and writing his answers to the paper.

It was funny how one paper of exercises managed to take an hour from everyone. Some even got the rest of them to make before the next class. B was one of them.

What was it with this school? It wasn't normal, that much was sure. They were expected to be brilliant. Flawless. Well, not flawless, but highly, dangerously highly above the average. That was not a book of maths that would've been presented to him at normal school for several following years. Yet here he was, struggling to keep up with everyone, feeling even more alone than ever, cut out from the best ones.

He was the one _meant_ to shine. Always. He couldn't tolerate with it. Being the best meant that he existed. That he was still alive. He would not give that up.

He would study. All around the clock until he would be as good as everyone else. No, better.

He would study until he'd be the number one.

* * *

"You're exhausting yourself", A told the 15 year old B who was lying on his stomach on the floor, wearing a loose black long-sleeved shirt and nicely fitting jeans, books piled to high piles, three of them open before him. He was taking notes on one of his notebooks. How many of these he had had during the five years he had been in this place was beyond A. He had lost count on the fifth one. Maybe it was because of his lack of interest. But what he was aware of was two boxes full of them in B's closet.

B didn't answer him, the routine going by exactly the same way it always did. A fixed his dark blue striped dress-shirt to fit better and lied down on the bed, stretching and letting out a low whine. For a while he just stayed there, listening to the sound of B's pencil and the turning pages, staring at the ceiling without really seeing it and breathing calmly.

They had been roommates from B's day one. At Wammy's the children were put into rooms in pairs. Though there was never a girl and a boy in the same room. In fact, their dormitories existed at the other sides of the orphanage, probably to prevent little lovebirds sneaking out from their rooms with raging hormones to get to their "loves".

It was all done just for the best of them. No unneeded underage pregnancies and a lesser chance of emotional ties between two inhabitants. Which was all good. From all they knew, there was no couple at Wammy's for the time being. There were 17 inhabitants, 9 being boys and 8 girls. Some of them were still mere children, the youngest one being a four year old little boy, Q, who could speak flawlessly four languages and was quickly on his way of learning more. The pressures were high.

A sat up and peered down at B again. "Seriously. Take a day off. You're trying too hard. It's just school. Your grades are unnaturally high already. And that's something in this place."

B shook his head determinately. "But I'm not number one. I'm nothing."

A sighed. "B, you're number two. Number two is good, you are someone, whether you see it or not. You're a lot. Don't be just an intelligent machine, live a little. Be human for once."

B looked up, a slight pout on his face. "Are you referring that I am not humane?"

"You know I don't mean it like that. I'm just trying to make you _do _something. Usually what you do is… well, studying. Sleeping. Eating. Reading."

"I talk with you too", B pointed out. "Even now I'm talking."

"Talking _and_ studying. Not to mention that you _do_ have an empty jar of jam next to you. Did you steal it from the kitchen again?" A laughed a bit. B let a smirk appear on his face, eyes flashing mockingly.

"What, you haven't figured out how to do that?"

A laughed a bit more and shook his head. "No. But maybe it's because I don't really care to know."

B threw him with one of the rather light books and he yelped, dodging it.

"Shouldn't you be studying?" he mocked. "You do know that I'm catching up with you. In some time I'll be just as good as you. Maybe even better. Actually I _have _caught up with you already. You shouldn't let your guard down so easily."

A sighed and pulled out a book, stealing a glance at B's dark, shoulder length hair, curling up a bit from the ends. He adored the way it caressed the younger man's neck and contrasted with his skin with a bit less colour than people would normally have. The way his red eyes were focused on the paper again, jumping rapidly from one line to another, the tongue that licked his slightly chopped, pink lips. Not to mention his growing shoulders on that lithe body.

No, B wasn't a monster like most of the kids at Wammy's said. He wasn't the devil with no human emotions and needs. His scarlet eyes didn't burn the one's skin that didn't please him. Neither did he have hidden horns. A knew. A had lived in the same room with him for years now, and even though he knew he wasn't even near knowing dangerously much about B, he swore he could consider him a loyal friend.

For him, B was a human just like everyone else.

And he was an absolutely beautiful one of that, he kept admitting to himself with a growing easiness day by day as he watched the teen study, mind too focused to worry about anything happening around him, failing to realise A's growing affection.

And A would read a book, time by time stealing a glance at that marvellous creature's sinfully fine figure that meant to him more than he even admitted to himself.

* * *

B was looking out of the window to the dark, raven skies above them, two lonely stars trying to shine through from the little cloudless spots, rain gracefully pouring down again. His face was blank, glance moving from one object to another slowly, lost in thoughts.

A crept closer to him, rubbing his tired eyes and glanced around him nervously, trying to make sure there was no lights lit or coming their way. If you got caught walking in the corridors during the nights, you got to spend time after lessons to complete six papers of work considering different subjects, usually chosen to be from the subjects that the wrong-doer was the worst in. A knew this because he had ended up there once himself, after waking up during the night to notice that he was all alone and wandering off in a search for his roommate.

B, in another hand, sometimes did it just to get to study the papers. Other children tended to call him suicidal thanks to it, but A knew better. A knew what B really yearned for was practice to become better, see what was in case for him, take up the challenge presented and try to outdo the expectation held of him. He usually managed.

But sometimes for no reason known to A, he left the room during nights, not caring whether he got caught or not. Tonight seemed to be another one of those days.

For some odd reason, it almost always seemed to be raining those days.

"B?" he whispered from a few metres away. "Why are you here again?"

B didn't turn his gaze from the outside world, mouth hanging slightly open, almost like trying to taste the freshness of the wet grass and trees, hands hanging limply on his sides and figure in a slight crouch.

"I wanted to see the rain better… this is the biggest window in here. And it has a nice scenery too…" B said quietly, not bothering to whisper. A shivered at the coolness of the room and crossed his arms, deciding to give B a small while before dragging him back to their room again, whether he liked it or not.

B slowly turned his gaze from the window. A could barely make out his face from the dark and cocked his head towards the door. "Come on. Let's go back."

B was about to turn back to the window again but A snatched his arm and yanked him strongly. B stared at him silently. Anyone else in the orphanage would've been nerved by that blank gaze, but A knew better.

That was B in his weakest. Hiding himself behind that mask of nothingness, refusing to let anyone in or show others how much he hurt, how hard he found it to breathe. That crouch too. When he was feeling confident he stood straight, head held high, eyes flashing around lively.

A held his hand softly leading him back to their room while B kept staring dully forward. Luckily there were no teachers to be seen and A made B sit down on his bed and fluffed his hair.

"See? Wasn't that bad was it?"

B shook his head as A walked to close the curtains in their room and crawled back to his own bed, deciding that it'd be better to leave B alone without pressuring him and just let him gather himself for the morning to come to speed off with full energy again.

"A?" B asked, voice raised slightly to surely reach his ears. A let out a small voice telling him to go on.

"Why are you so afraid of being alone during the nights?"

A tensed slightly and let out a small laugh. "I'm not afraid. I'm just afraid of you doing something stupid when you're out there alone. Why do you get so moody during rains?"

It was only half the truth. Yes, he did worry about B a lot. He was so passive and withdrawn, refusing to let anyone too close which worried him. For all he knew, B could be planning a suicide and just wander out yet another rainy night to… jump off the roof or slit his wrists or throat or steal meds to get an overdose or just… all the things that there was out there… He was worried. Very worried.

Because even though he had other friends at Wammy's, his need for B to be around was the strongest. B never pressured him to hang out with him all day long, there were only little things done every now and then. Like… handing over a book or letting to take a look at the other one's notes or talking for a while when the other one got bored enough. With others, it easily went so that when he wasn't in the mood for spending time with them for a while, they ended up pressuring him whether he was their friend or not. He didn't like forcing himself, he much rather just went with the flow, doing things he felt like doing.

Losing B would make him more than just slightly depressed. It might as well break him, he didn't know. He didn't like people close to him dying.

But yes, if he'd admit it to himself, he would realise that he indeed was afraid of being alone during the nights.

It was a habit stuck from his childhood, during the times he still believed in the monsters under his bed, ghosts coming through the walls to haunt him, someone sneaking at him while he was asleep and suffocating him. When he had been a child, he had had a habit of running to his parents' room to sleep in the middle of them, listen to her mum's soothing voice and his father trying to convince him that there really was nothing to fear and that they were right in the room next to his.

They let him stay anyway.

At Wammy's for several months he'd been all alone. Long, sleepless nights, both from trauma keeping him awake and his childish fear that stuck with him. He had spent the nights staying up studying and after the lessons, before the night he had taken his several hour rest after setting the alarm before the dark to wake up to the safe, light up surroundings.

It was hard to tell how happy he had been to hear that he would be getting a roommate soon. Even after first seeing his new friend, he had avoided admitting the creepy parts in the new child's features, ignoring the others' babble of "the doll with red eyes".

For him B meant safety. The feeling of having another person around, hearing someone breathing during the nights, wake up every now and then to hold his knees quietly, unhappy with his new surroundings, the scowl in his face present during the several first days.

After that he started seeing it less. After B had been given some time to adjust.

And A didn't fear loosing him. Ever.

Except for lately.

"I won't do anything. Only if it'd help me to reach my goal, and for now I don't see any reason for that", B said, clearly avoiding A's question, dodging it almost naturally like he had never even heard of it. He let A dwell on his secrets as well, not putting up an argue. He lied down on his bed again, pulling his blanket better on himself.

The lay in a silence only broken by the rummaging rain and B's shivering until the morning came.

* * *

"A, you've been called out for a health check. Please go immediately", the teacher said as she stepped in the room and B and A looked up at her worriedly.

"Usually we get a note a few days beforehand?" A asked confusedly, trying to analyze what was going on. B kept staring at him, also clearly suspecting something, as were several other children in the class too. The teacher piled A's books and handed them over to him.

"It's just a regular health check. I know it came a bit fast, but it isn't anything you haven't gone through already", she said. "You know where to go."

A nodded before putting the books in his bag and walking out, trying to seem as composed as he could. He tidied a few stray strands of his blonde hair before knocking at the doctor's door, changing his weight from one leg to another, eyes warily glancing around.

The door was opened by a young man that couldn't be too many years his senior, hair in a wild disarray, still looking extremely clean as though it just naturally refused to stay put. Not that the man seemed to have even tried it. His eyes were blank, almost black but A could make out a hint of grey before the man opened the door a bit more, revealing a crouched position he was in, reminding him of B in his worst times.

He couldn't remember seeing this man before. He hadn't heard a mention of a new doctor either, and the man seemed too much like a slob to be a real doctor, wearing clothes at least a size too big for him, jeans and a white shirt with too short sleeves. He motioned for him to come in.

"A, I presume. Good you came", he said as A stepped in the office. He took a chair and sat down nervously, wondering what the hell was really going on as the man walked to sit on the doctor's chair, knees up, and reached for a plate of strawberry-and-cream cake.

"You can pour yourself some coffee if you'd like. This might take a small while", the man said, staring at A with those wide eyes of his. A deduced that this person must've ran only thanks to the energy sugar was forcing in his body, because he seemed more alarmed than usual, but not aware enough to be completely awake after a good night's rest.

"You must wonder who I am. And I hope you won't be passing out the information to other inmates, even after some pressuring. For all they'll know about, this'll be just a simple health check", the man went on talking, putting a spoonful of cake in his mouth and savouring it wetly before swallowing. A nodded in trance, wondering how much the man reminded him of his roommate. Though there were some serious differences in the two; this man seemed thinner than the healthy amount, maybe because of malnutrition, where B was simply slim. This man's hair was a total mess, B's was pretty neat if you didn't count the small curl they made at the end. This one's eyes were dead, accompanied with dark eyebags when B's eyes were scarlet and simply just pushing others away from his own, lively world.

No, they weren't the same.

But they could've been brothers.

"I am L. You must've heard of me since your studies here are very focused on laws and deducing. L, the world's number one detective."

A gasped, not fully believing and felt his eyes widen slightly.

"What you don't know, is that all of you are actually competing to become my successor. I've been keeping an eye on all of you. Unfortunately, some disappoint me. They just aren't made for the work I do. But you, A… you've been my number one for quite a long time."

…What was this man saying..?! Was he really L? _The_ L? That… that could've explained the hardness of their education and many other things but… this was just so much! How could he be sure?

"I won't waste my time trying to prove you who I am", L said, munching his cake. "I am merely talking to you, because I think you're ready to hear it."

"Do you… do you mean that you're planning for me to succeed you?" A said breathlessly, still in shock. It… it sounded so brilliant… He could make criminals pay for their sins, stealing lives, ruining lives, even _his_ life, he could help people, just like he had always wished… Not to mention the work sounded challenging, good, no, _brilliant_…

"I merely said that you're the number one on my list… for now. But it isn't just that. Personally saying, I'm not sure if you're suited for the job."

A violent drop back to the reality.

"W-what? Why?" A asked, trying not to raise his voice demanding the answers. L sighed, playing with his spoon, seeming quite grumpy.

Was the great L really this… arrogant and… emotionless?

"You are very intelligent, A. You're a natural talent. But you're not used to really _trying_, you're not used to working hard for your goals, setting all that you have to reach it. You aren't dedicated enough. You also hold a wide collection of emotions that might get in your way in this job. You're a talkative person, the loneliness that comes with the job… it might eat you alive. It'd be just like throwing a pretty, blooming flower to the trashes. Pointless. You don't have what it needs to shine at my work."

"But I can… I can be like that!" A pleaded. "I'm sure I can. Even from this point. Just tell me you'll consider and I'll be exactly like you want to! I'll be the best… I'll be perfect!"

L raised his finger to quiet him down and laid his cake on the table, taking a sip of his coffee. "The reason I even called you here is because I will be giving you a chance. I'll be staying in here for the following two months and even though you probably won't see me, I'll be observing you. We will see if you can be suitable or not."

"…If not me then who?" A asked, feeling insulted. This was the first time in the years he had spent at Wammy's that someone had said that he wasn't good enough. That he wasn't suitable. He felt dull and empty. _He was number one…_

"B. Backup", L said easily. "He's been my backup plan. In case you, Ascension fail, there will always be a backup to pull in the game. He's been working very hard and you could say that he's suitable for it. Not to mention that he's been catching up with you quickly. He'll surpass you in no time."

…No… No, not B. He couldn't believe it. B was number two. Of course he was but… that his friend would steal his price right before his nose… No. He wouldn't let it happen.

His gaze hardened. "I can do it", he told L. "Just watch me."

L wrote down a doctor's calling for the following day and handed it over to A. "Please make sure that Backup gets this. I'll be seeing you in two months, A."

A left the room, his head bowed, and felt more worthless than ever.

* * *

"I don't see why you're so cold to me tonight, A. Did I do something wrong?" B asked after he had put his books away. It was probably the first time in years that he had done that. He glanced up at A, wondering if he should be worried or what.

A knew that B wasn't used to emotions and found them trivial. He had to stop to analyze what he felt, and most likely he didn't feel it as strongly as people normally would. Maybe it was some kind of disorder. A sighed.

"No, you haven't done anything…" he said, wondering whether he believed it to be true or not. Yes, practically B had done nothing wrong, he understood it: B had just been himself. Obsessed in surpassing others, taking time and dedication to achieve his goal and grow more brilliant day by day. It wasn't really B's fault that A… wasn't like that.

"Well then why so cold?" B asked. "It's not like you. Even though I'd be cruel to you, you'd still keep babbling and calm down in several hours. I don't understand this."

Oh, B didn't understand it. There was a crack in his world and he didn't know what had hit it. He was in the need for an analyze.

But A wouldn't give it. He wasn't allowed to. He would not go proving himself incapable to L by ratting at B, so letting out confidential information. Not even to B.

Though it made him down to see his friend with that kicked puppy look in his face, playing with his toes concernedly. The way his eyes were turning blank again and how his shoulders rose, almost as if to prevent any hits. A bit his lip.

"I'm sorry. You haven't done anything wrong", he sighed and lied down on his bed. After a small silence he heard the sheets moving as B stood up and walked quietly to him, climbing to his bed and moving onwards until he was right above A, that blankness almost overtaken his face completely, peering down at him with his black locks tickling A's cheeks slightly. B's feet were seated to the sides of A's hips, hands supporting his front above A's shoulders. B tilted his head.

It was probably the first time A had really seen him do that, and for a while he was not sure if he wanted to see it again. It was almost as if B had suddenly cracked his neck out of place, head turning so much it seemed rather unnatural. A pulled his hands from under the other man and put his face straight again.

B's cheeks were so cool. Soft. He could tell that there were several scars, faded by time to that pale skin, but not as snow-white as the death angel's who was suffocating him with his demands…

A first tried to gently move B's face closer to his, but the other man didn't get the clue. Of course not. B was not used to any sexual innuendos, he didn't even talk about such things. All conversations like that A had gone through with the other children. For a while he wondered if B knew anything about it. Not even once had he seen B's sheets stained with anything except for jam. He couldn't remember ever noticing him secretly masturbating either.

So he leaned forward, hoping B would get what it would mean as he awkwardly pressed their lips together and nibbled at B's upper lip gently, experiencing. He didn't feel extremely good at this either. In fact, he hadn't even ever kissed anyone before.

In his mind, there had always been room just for B. He had always told himself that it was alright as long as he would never take an action towards him or tell anyone. Little secrets were alright.

But then L had come. L had come and broken that safe and comfy bubble of his. And A found himself non-caring. He knew he was starting to slip. It would be hard two months for him… maybe some kind of stress relief would be good.

B appeared confused. At first he tried to pull away but A gently, comfortingly laid his hands on the man's neck and pulled him closet, gently soothing his hair. He could feel his breathing getting hotter and he blushed. B tried to open his voice to say something, probably something along the lines of "what are you doing?" but A slowly licked B's teeth and closed his eyes.

He could feel B shivering over him.

He let him pull away. B ended up sitting on his lap, thumb rubbing his lip slightly, eyes widely alarmed. He was gazing at A demandingly.

"It was a kiss", A stated. "When someone really likes someone, they impress their emotions by kissing. Though usually there is a warning beforehand the first time."

B was still rubbing his lip. "…A kiss..?" he said, probably memorizing the word and it's meaning in his vocabulary. "So… you're not mad at me?"

"I can't be mad at you…" A said as he pulled B better over him again. "I love you."

B's eyes widened again as A kissed him after those words, finally realising what A had really meant with the action.

Nevertheless, he never broke it.

* * *

Beyond Birthday was down. Really down. He felt the numbing clouds of depression surrounding him again, brought along by the always blowing wind. His senses were numb, thoughts bitter and emotions rising.

He had messed up. A big time.

A month and three weeks.

From November 4th to December 25th. 51 days. 1224 hours. 73440 minutes. 4406400 seconds.

So little numbers. So little time. Always counting down, down, down… towards the haunting zero. But they weren't just numbers anymore. They weren't meaningless. For once they didn't feel like simple mathematics.

It was a countdown. A countdown to hell.

B kept staring at the line of sharp, glowing numbers over A's head, eyes nearing the state of half-dead, glare darkening every passing minute.

51 days to December 25th. Was it really so soon? Really? Could it be? He had always known that his friend wouldn't make it to the summer, trying to protect himself for the loss by keeping his distance, just like with everyone else. A was just like everyone else around him, meaningless, just a tool to use to make him look better?

No. No he wasn't. Not now that he'd realised…

No. He just wasn't. Why had he let it come to this, he thought anxiously, walking on the corridors with his friend spending time nose buried in a school book intently studying. The frames of the paintings didn't look like gold anymore, they had lost their glow. The flowers in the vase were starting to shrivel away. The carpet wasn't soft, it was itchy against his socks.

The floors were cold. The air didn't taste fresh. The sunshine didn't resemble a happy day.

Because even though the nightmarish rain wasn't taunting him outside the fortress, the one in his head was slowly drowning him and he found himself in a haze.

There was death around him. Only death. Everywhere, numbers ticking towards zero. Countdown after countdown, 25 years from now, 5 years from now, 40 years from now…

They were slowly coming towards.

But A…

One month and three weeks. 51 days. 1224 hours. 73440 minutes. 4406400 seconds

And B could see the world shattering around him, staining the walls and his hands in a sticky red, floor a sea of blood and people walking on it mere visitors beyond the grave.

When he passed the mirror, his reflection's eyes glowed crimson.

And he knew that he really was cursed with those devilish eyes.

* * *

Beyond Birthday knocked the doctor's door, scratching his neck quietly. His mask was composed, blank, refusing to leak the turmoil in his mind. How the wooden door turned black to his touch, how the air he breathed turned toxic and how everything he saw lost their beauty. It was all rotting away from him, he was unable to reach out for it without seeing blood spilling from them. Dripping.

A young man opened the door and motioned for him to come in with as much as a quick "Afternoon, Backup". He observed the room quietly and noticed that it hasn't changed at all since the last time, still clean and uninteresting, even though the doctor didn't seem to be the same.

A freaky doctor. If you could even call him a doctor, because he certainly didn't appear to be one. B could've easily mocked him for his appearance… if he wouldn't have found the tragic beauty with only several years left to live so… so…

_Breathtaking…_

He noticed his eyes taking in the sight of this angel of death, messed up, dead inside, pale and shrivelled, just like him! He found his mouth opening in awe, eyes darting around, taking in every sharp angle and soft curve, every little broken detail.

His eyes glowed. This… this was… Well the man was certainly beautiful… Not in the same way that A was. A was more like the traditional beauty: born to be so, no matter how bad condition he was in, he always brought a little glimmer in B's brains. A was the kind of beauty people probably dreamed of, his personality kind and tender, loving… He was all B could wish for.

If it wasn't for those numbers.

51 days. His face went back to blank.

Not even this man had many years more to live. He would die young, but not as young as A. Not like A. A.

A.

"I am L, Backup", the man introduced himself and B's eyes widened a bit again, gaping at the almost anorexic form, the long, slim fingers, dark eye bags… oh god… The dead eyes, staring right at him in a way that froze him right there…

"L? Like the detective L?" he asked quickly, remembering several mentions about L in his schoolbooks. L nodded.

"Yes. And I am here to talk about you and A. My successors", L said, reaching out for a bowl of strawberries, taking one and popping it in his mouth, softly chewing. "You may have some of those too, if you want to."

B nodded hesitantly and took one. He tasted it and felt the red liquid pour in his mouth. So juicy, so good! A very high quality jam could be made of these strawberries, they were the best he had ever tasted!

L didn't smile as he sat down to that crouch of his, back curling slightly onwards as he placed his hands on his raised knees, his balance held on by his feet. B admired the way he looked, like protecting himself from the cold world around him, keeping his distance and barrier…

He wanted to be just like that… Just like that tragic beauty! The anorexic princess that others found too shrivelled to love, but B…

…Wait…

B could never love this man. Never. This wasn't A. He loved A… did he not?

"For the moment, A's the number one on the list who's becoming my successor when the day that I die comes", L said, not stunned by B's silence.

…But A won't live that long, L… Does that mean..?

"But in case something was to happen to him, or if I decide that he isn't right for the job, I would like you to become my successor. You have what it takes from all that I know: brilliant mind and deductive skills, eye for details, deprivation from people around you and dedication to finish the challenge you've given. You would be perfect."

…Did this… Did L, the lovely L just call him perfect?

He stared at the beautiful, unique name above the man's head, _L Lawliet_, and almost chuckled at its adorableness. Lawliet… Lawli… Lawli-pop… So sugary, deathly in big doses, but oh, so addicting…

…Was it obsession that was waking up? Or was he merely just trying to cling into something in this surrounding blackness? He didn't know.

"It sounds great", he said happily. "I can prove to you that I'm good enough for you!"

L eyed him suspiciously, chewing another strawberry and swallowed, the Adam's apple moving in his throat and B observed every little movement and twitch he made.

"I'll be just like you. You don't have to be disappointed with me!"

"…That does sound good. Now I'm actually thinking of putting A aside, because I'm not sure if he's completely suitable for the job, the most intelligent one or not. In two months I'll make a decision of which one of you will succeed me."

Less than two months, L. In two months… there'll… there'll be no A…

B felt the light being sucked away from his world away as the depression threatened to return.

He had to take his mind off of A. He needed a distraction.

He would become L. The perfect successor. That was a mission for him. His mind was already swirling around. He seemed to have to pick up a few new habits. The sitting position would be good. Also the way L held the strawberries, right between two of his fingers, not fully grasping it. The way his expression was so blank at all times, the way his toes curled, the way his hair spiked upwards messily, the almost anorexic thinness…

…It seemed like it was about to lose some weight he realised as he gazed down at his own stomach. He was too fat. Way too fat. He wasn't supposed to be that way. He had to look thin, oh so thin… Oh so perfect…

"I assume you'll be contacting me in two months, then", he said as blankly as he could. "I'll look forward to it."

"Do your best, Backup", L said and nodded. "Now it would be good if you would leave. Go to your classes."

B nodded and walked to the door, trying to crouch himself a bit more. He opened the door and turned to look back at L.

"…I assume you met A too", he said. L nodded, not turning his gaze away.

"This is a private conversation, B. Just like A's. Confidential."

"I understand", B said and left the room.

Oh, sweet princess Anorexia, your step is so light and body so weak that the air forces you to the crouch, hiding your pale skin from the rays of the burning sun.

And so B headed back to his classes, eyes staring into absolutely nothing.

* * *

A and B were studying.

Both boys glued to their books, one driven by force, need and fear, one by habit, love for it and the light at the edges of his blurred vision.

He smiled at A.

A gave him a small, forced smile as well, breathing heavily and trying to write down notes just like B, eyeing him, the way he worked and memorizing how L was…

…What had come to make hatred grow in his heart again was the way B had been when he had gotten back. His expression blank, but that glimmer of some kind in his eyes. He had pulled on different clothes, a loose white shirt and different jeans, lighter ones than the previous. He was sitting in a crouch, writing the notes against his knees instead of being sprawled to the floor like he used to.

…B had been changed so badly. A should be the one changing, _A_ needed the change, B was already so brilliant… but now… B was starting to become such a copy, almost a mere photograph…

If A would allow it to go on, B would lose himself. A would lose him. There would be no B: and if there wasn't B, there certainly wasn't A.

"Are you hungry, B? We could go and get something from the kitchen. Take a break", he tried to lure B back from the framed image.

B didn't even glance up. Not even a one second lasting glance.

"Not hungry. Shouldn't you be studying too?" he asked.

A sighed. "I guess I should…"

And he picked the book up again, starting to hate the feeling a cover of a book felt against his bare hands, the way his fingers refused to be like L's or B's, how his blonde hair came to his vision and his soft, not as pointed face felt.

He would never be like those two. Because he never could be like them.

He was A. He was number one.

Meant to be cast aside when the backup started to look more tempting.

* * *

"B, when was the last time you ate?" A asked worriedly as he put his books down. He hadn't slept in several days; he had tried for several times, but failed miserably. After four long hours of just trashing around his bed he sat up and opened his night lamp, making sure B was still out cold and picked up his books to read. He was starting to form really nice eye bags. L should be proud of him.

"Five days ago", B answered lightly, peeking up at A's shocked reaction. "I'm not hungry. And I have drunk water."

…No wonder he seemed to be getting paler day by day, hands shaking sometimes violently and energy running out. The way his stomach grumbled and the loss of weight he had gotten. Not that it was much at such a small amount of time but…

…Wait…

Five days? He hadn't eaten since he had met L? What was B thinking!?

"B. I'm taking you to eat now", he said determinately. "I will not let you die of malnutrition because of that bastard."

"He's not a bastard! He's… brilliant…" B's eyes flashed in awe and A felt depression creeping onto him, which was very unusual considering his cheerful personality.

He had just… seemed to be breaking a lot lately. But he would not lose B to L… He hated the thought of losing the price of being the first one, his chance for a payback, for being meaningful, but he would_ not_ just hand B over to L too… It would not be happening.

"Come on, B", A said, dragging him out of the room, B's notes and pencils flying around from the sudden dragging. B followed him in a crouch as A pulled him down the stairs to the first floor, towards the dining room.

He seated the black-haired young man to the chair and went to the kitchen, brining back bread and strawberry jam, putting them before B.

"I'm not eating", B stated as nicely as he could. "I'm sorry. I'm just not."

"Don't let him ruin you, B! Don't let him suffocate you! You're… you're still kicking… please don't let him take over. I'm sure he didn't tell you to starve to death. Come on. Just eat it."

"I'm not eating", B stated again and shook his head, bringing his knees up. A felt his hands trembling.

"…What are you doing B… What are you letting him do to you..?!" he breathed out breathlessly, eyes glistening, putting jam on the bread. "That… that eyeliner you've put below your eyes. The hair products you use to your hair. The way you dress. Starve yourself. Please stop it… Do it for me. Eat it!" he said, raising his voice and pushed the bread right before B's mouth. "Eat it, B!"

"…I'm sorry A. No", B said, shaking his head again and pushing the bread away. "I'll… I'll just drink some water, okay? Don't worry!"

"…How can you say that, B..?" A asked, biting his lip. "How can you say not to worry when you're clearly on a suicide mission..?"

"I'm just… not eating…"

The bread was thrown to his face, jam staining his face. B let out a small whine as he took it off and wiped his face quickly, trying not to taste his favourite sugary substance to avoid from falling to eat it. A was shaking in front of him.

They sat silently for a while, B wiping his face and A shaking, head bowed.

"…I'll go to study", A finally said and left B to just sit there and stare at the breads and a jar of jam.

There was a droplet of some clear liquid on the table of A's side.

_A was raining._

* * *

A and B were sitting in their room again. It was already late and the sky outside was black, the lights in the room lit to grace both of their pale features with its golden light.

B hadn't eaten properly since his meeting with L, sometimes just something to keep him alive and kicking. The change was already starting to show on his already lithe body features, ribs starting to poke out and the sickly paleness painted on his skin, the surrounding flesh of his eyes slightly pinkish, lips starting to lose their colour. A, in another hand, hadn't gotten sleep since his meeting with L and was driving out of energy, staying buried in books all day long, worrying about his best friend, his _love_ and his future that looked way too hard to reach now.

He was starting to lose sight.

Everything was starting to splatter in their view. Things weren't the way they were before; they weren't what they were before. Both driven to their edges, both snapping from time to time, not finding relief in anything they did, never finding peace, _rest_, help for starvation they beheld. Day after day they looked in the mirror and saw themselves with a bit less of themselves in there.

The people that stared back at them… they couldn't really be them, right? They couldn't really live this never-ending tiredness, pain, suffocation. The way the air around them refused to give them enough oxygen to survive, how the things they ate turned to ash, no longer cherished.

A was starting to give in. He kept kicking as violently as he could, he tried to kick out of the box he was taped into. He was a mere package about to be thrown away because it held no meaning anymore.

Like B had said before…

Nothing mattered if you were number two. Only number one existed.

A would spend the empty hours of his night when B wasn't yet asleep to roll on his side, staring at B's back, wishing to save it from the backbones that were starting to poke out, flesh around them lessening, being eaten away.

Who did A blame?

L.

It was L who had caused this. All of this. It was L who had managed to kill them in such a small amount of time. It was L who caused every action they took to take place. Maybe he didn't mean to, but it didn't matter. He was keeping an eye on them, so he'd said, so surely he must've realised that something was seriously off.

A was starting to consider giving B in to the school doctor considering his newly developed anorexia. He wanted to save the last thing he managed to hold onto, but he felt his grasp slipping. B's eyes had lost their fire.

They were just dull.

Emotionless. Cold.

A was staring in the window, using B's eyeliner to draw dark circles under his eyes. He had stolen B's loose jeans and the white shirt and pulled them over and he watched his reflection from the mirror, mind dull and pained. Chained.

He bowed his head and held back his emotions by taking in several deep breaths before walking out of the bathroom and glancing at B who was spending time lying on his back, curled up, playing with his long toes. Toes no longer covered with socks.

"B", he purred quietly, making sure his voice wouldn't break. B glanced up at him, surprise flashing in his eyes.

"…What are you doing… A..?" he asked, staring at A's suddenly changed appearance. A clicked the lights shut and crouched over to his bed, lying down on it.

Silence.

"Come over B", A said. He could hear B shifting before crouching over to him, peering down at him worriedly. He tilted his head nervously, hands twitching. A sighed and pulled him over.

"Your hands are twitching because you want to touch me", A stated. B was staring at him, and from what A could make out of his expression, it was a harsh stare. "You like me like this more. No, don't deny it", he stopped B as he angrily opened his mouth object, but A took his hands on his and kissed B's neck. "Enjoy what you have now, okay? Let's do it."

"…You want a distraction", B stated. "You're doing this, because you want to prove yourself something. Whether it's the fact that am I more attracted to you or L or whether it's if sex can make you feel any better and keep you busy during your sleepless nights or both, I'm not sure. But that's why you're doing it."

"Or maybe I just want you", A hissed back at him. "Maybe I'll do anything to have you, to make you notice me. I can be yours, B. Because he never will."

"I know that!" B shot at him angrily. "But I want one of you not a… fake mix!"

"Oh shut up..!" A hissed as he started kissing B's lips harshly, making wet sounds and sucking on them, hoping to bring out some of the colour back to them, furiously closing his eyes and parting his legs to get B closer to his body, curling his legs around the other one's hips. "I'm here now and I want you, isn't that enough? I know your interest on me has started dropping, I don't know why but it has and… now you can just pretend that I'm L if you want to. You can do whatever you want. I can be your L. I just want this."

"Fine! If it's something you want _so_ badly, maybe I should just give it to you? So you won't be able to walk well tomorrow and that you can see if sex makes any difference in your miserable life!" B yelled at him angrily and started kissing A, his hands starting to throw A's shirt away. A didn't object and helped him. Soon B knocked A down and A yelped in pain when he hit the back of his head to the headboard. B was running harsh kisses and bites down his lips, chin, throat, chest, his hands massaging A's stomach, pressing it hardly enough to surely leave bruises of those slim fingers.

A closed his eyes and focused on the feeling of B on top of him. Working on him. The way his sharp teeth sank in his flesh, drawing out blood that he licked from his lips, the way his tongue ran up his stomach, hands held his hips, the sucking on his left nipple…

He moaned and threw his head to his left, legs parting more and arms snaking over B's shoulders, hands reaching his shoulder bones, nails sinking in them, making B wince slightly. But it was only a mere scratch, especially if he compared them to the marks that B was leaving on him.

He felt hot. His pants were too tight. He was breathing heavily, blush creeping on his cheeks as B took his strength away with that morphine touch. A used his knees to kick B further on top of him, making his legs curl into a 90 degree angle as he started yanking B's shirt off.

B got the idea and started unbuttoning and unzipping A's jeans as A breathed hotly in B's throat, enjoying the other one's shivers as he sucked on it, feeling his own lips pulsing. He leaned back a little to stare into B's marvellous eyes. He brushed the younger man's cheek gently, pulling him to a kiss again, jeans halfway down.

The kiss didn't last long before B pulled away. A swallowed harshly as he realised that he could count B's ribs as he sat on his knees between his legs, yanking his boxers off. A felt more heat rushing to his face, and other areas, as B fully exposed himself and started kissing A's lower stomach, not caring that A's erection was poking his throat.

A whimpered at the touch and arched his back. "B-B…"

"You can call me Beyond", B stated quietly, crawling better on top of him again. A stared at him with wide eyes.

"…Huh? What do you mean?"

"I'm Beyond. Beyond Birthday. I know it's a silly name… not as pretty as yours, Autumn Ayers…" B said, purring in A's ear, licking it barely touching, hand running up A's side. A buried his hands in that black hair, slightly stick with the hair products.

"How do you know my name?" he asked. B kissed his nose, eyes closed in an almost peaceful matter.

"I just do. I don't see how it matters: I have the information anyway, Autumn", he said. A's hands were running down his body, down his buttocks and grabbing him from his inner thighs, pushing him upwards. B gasped.

"Let's just do it. No need to make it so slow is there?" A murmured in B's ear. "First time… it isn't all that special. It's just sex."

B nodded and kissed A's length. "…I'm not really sure how to do this. You know I don't."

A sighed and sat up. "Should I be doing it to you then?"

"I didn't mean that!" B yelled, face obviously darkening from a blush. A knocked him down with a sudden jump and held him in place as he struggled and silently screamed words of objection. A pushed a finger up B's entrance.

"Oh shit… A! A, take it out, I think I get it now!" B let out a small wail and fidgeted under him, sweat covering his form. "Seriously A! I'm not kidding! Out, now!"

A only smirked and pushed another one in. "I'm number one, B. Number one gets the price… number two suffers the consequences. You are number two", he chuckled in B's ear and used his other hand to soothingly massage B's erection that tended to poke him in the stomach as he leaned over. B let out a mewl and growled as A kept kissing his collarbone.

"A…" he growled dangerously. "I swear that if you don't stop that right - AH! Oh god, STOP IT!"

A had pushed his third finger in and started scissoring him with a devious smirk. He licked his lips and rubbed some of the pre-cum from B's member as the younger man whined under him.

"Don't say it doesn't feel good. You like pain. You're used to it, are you not?" he hissed playfully and parted B's legs more, bringing his fingers out. "Though right now I do wish we'd have lube. Hurting you might be the last thing I'll do, can it not?"

"Oh yes it can…" B growled, knowing he didn't fully mean it. The mocking numbers ticking above A's head reminded him about it.

No. He wouldn't kill A.

He wouldn't kill that touchable pale skin… that soft hair… the movements he made, noises that left his mouth…

"Oh wait, I have hand lotion", A remembered just in time and jumped off the bed in a search for it while B lied quietly, staring at the way too familiar ceiling.

The ceiling that hadn't changed one bit, even though the room's occupants had.

He closed his eyes, wishing to know what he wanted. What he really wanted as his body trembled out of exhaustion and eyes stung. He licked his lips and let out a growl to make sure A was hurrying. The feeling was way too great… B had never thought that his body could feel what it felt when he was like this with L, no wait, A. A. Where had that thought come from..?

He sat up quietly, seeing A crawl back to the bed with hand lotion. He stared at his figure, now naked, dirty fingers stuck in his precious hand lotion.

He examined how it felt when he thought of A when he kissed his inner thighs. He examined how it felt when he thought of L when he spread the lotion to his entrance and his erection.

…God. No. Please, no.

The thought of L excited him more. The thought of A was extremely pleasing too, of course, the way he passionately loved, how he looked after him, but…

…But he loved them both…

…But he was now sleeping with A…

…Thinking of L.

Sinfully thinking of the wrong person in bed. And enjoying it.

_Forgive me, A. Please forgive me Autumn._

And B felt A pushing inside of him, making his body jolt and tremble violently, several cries escaping from his lips as he held onto A, nails sinking deep in the other one's flesh, surely leaving marks. A kissed his shoulder as he cried out again.

And without time to adjust, they were moving. In and out. In. Out.

L over him,_ all_ over him, touching him, pounding him to the mattress so hard that the bed was creaking, threatening to fall apart. B moaned loudly, enjoying the thought more than the actual feeling, he arched his back as A pounded to him desperately, speeding up, almost as if jolting in pleasure…

"L-AUTUMN!"

A stopped.

"A-Autumn… Autumn…" B babbled, trying to move his hips to A's. "Autumn… Autumn, _please_…"

And A was pounding him again. Harder than before, not caring. He was so violent that B's moans turned to muffled screams. B cried out of pain as he felt A come inside of him, quickly pulling out and walking to the bathroom with a loud bang.

Several crystal drops had fallen on his chest again. B ran his finger on it shakily and licked it. Salty.

_A was raining again._

And B could hear it from the bathroom as his interest for release soon died and he crawled back to his bed in pain, hoping they could sleep over it and try again another time.

Maybe that time B would be thinking of A during it.

* * *

The next day B was limping. A didn't seem to care.

In fact, A hadn't talked to him. Not once. B hadn't tried talking to him either, not knowing what to say. Had last night just been a test? He didn't know. He just hoped that A would calm down in several hours.

But he didn't. He was icy, radiating his coldness only to be sucked in by the hollow B.

A didn't even sit towards him during the lunch, leaving him all alone as others glared and pointed at him, whispering, probably trying to explain why he was in pain.

Most of people said that they had had a fight and A had managed to hurt his leg. They seemed to be fighting, it was all logical.

Other said that they had had sex which had not turned out well.

In a way, they were both right.

With no A trying to talk him into eating, B just sat there quietly, staring blankly, fully composed, to the opposite wall. There was a crack in it. It was bleeding. Blood dripping down, puddle forming to the floor, turning into a sea. He rose his legs up again, hugging his knees as he felt the darkness forming above of him. He feared it would rain.

Because A had rained too. If A rained, why wouldn't B rain?

Even the thought of A's liquid drops hitting his chest made him feel like vomiting, screaming, crying out of the fear of suffocating and the drowning in his own tears, he thought about it. His whole body trembled weakly at the thought.

Flashes.

Car. Light. Crash. Scream.

Rain.

Rain.

Rain and pain. And zero.

_Zero._

And A's numbers were slowly ticking down, precious time being wasted, B realised fearfully. 14 days. Two weeks and A would be gone. Two weeks and A would be gone forever.

B rose from his seat and walked out of the dining hall without eating anything, not seeing the pained glance A shot at his back.

* * *

Seven days. They had not talked about it, nor had they made up. This was their longest fight ever. B realised that he must've done something unspeakably bad for A to get him to be angry for this long. Or maybe it was because this wasn't the happy, talkative, hyperactive A anymore. This wasn't his friend. A was just tired. Tired, trying too hard, breaking under the pressure and shattering in pieces. B could often hear quiet, muffled sobs coming behind their locked bathroom's door. He just walked to his bed and hugged his pillow, wishing he would've done things differently.

Because he had killed the last piece of A that there had been. The last little glimmer… his love for B. The way he cared for him, tried to help him. He had taken away A's last reason to live. Because they both knew it…

A wouldn't meet L's expectations. He was cracked. Emotional wreck. His focusing was fully gone. He didn't sleep for more than fifteen minutes at time and fell asleep during classes.

B often stayed up all night to realise this. He wanted to turn over and ask A if he could help. But he knew he couldn't. And he knew that there was a chance that he'd just worsen the situation.

B was watching the snowflakes fall and cover the view. All he saw was white, the fake purity: the clinical dullness. Not even the wilderness felt alive anymore.

Voices. Voices talking to him. Filling his ears with twisted thoughts.

He hung a bird he had managed to snatch from outside to the entrance hall's ceiling.

He had been taken to the principle Roger's office. He had been forced to psychiatric and medical exams.

B didn't care. He didn't care what others said. He did know that he wasn't fine. He did know that he had died. Yes, he was dead. The fact that his body kept living didn't mean that he did.

He was just haunting his body: the quiet whisper filling his ears with stories of the good old times.

_Four days._

It would be Christmas soon. B wondered if he should give A a present. He didn't know. He didn't know if he could consider this new, ice-cold, dead eyes carrying A his friend anymore. He had no one else to give a present for anyway.

_Three days._

B stared at A quietly for the whole day, wishing to hug him and ask for a day when they'd be like they had been before. He took a jar of jam and bread during lunchtime, planning to eat them for A like he had once asked, but failed. He ran to the bathroom and drowned as he rained.

_Two days._

B didn't sleep. Not one minute. His hands kept shaking. They still hadn't made up. A hadn't said a word to him since the incident. Almost two weeks before. B rose up in the middle of the night, knowing A was awake from his quiet, sobbing form on his bed and planned to go and hug him. When he got close, A threw his hand away. B walked back to his bed and covered his ears, face blank.

_One day before the judgement day. Christmas._

"A."

The boy threw on his black sweater and left the room quickly without answering. B's head hung and he decided not to go to any lessons that day. Instead of that, he spent the whole day lying on his bed, not even getting up to drink anything, only staring up at that wall he remembered A staring at when he had been working. It seemed so long ago. He knew he'd never get it back.

He threw up violently and the smell filled the room, but he didn't find any interest to clean it away. There wasn't anything in it anyway, just yellow liquid. That tasted like hell. He didn't get water to rinse his mouth.

A came back to the dorm that night. B didn't look up at him.

"I love you", B said. A froze and shook, hands shaking, accusing him of lying and telling him to clean up his pathetic attempt of vomiting. He didn't.

Neither of them slept again. B could hear A crying hard. Had he done something wrong again? Had he been so wrong to tell A that he loved him? Wasn't it what A wanted, shouldn't he be happy?

No merry Christmases were exchanged.

_Just a few hours._

A tried to leave the room. B took his hand and hugged it, clinging to it desperately. He buried his head in A's back.

"I know what you'll do. Please… I want to be there with you."

A shook his head, telling him he had no idea what he was talking about. An obvious lie. B pleaded. He started crying again. A turned to him, trying to be angry but failing.

"I'm so sorry, A. I really am."

"It's not your fault. It's his."

"L's?"

"Yes. He caused this. All of this", A said, a tear running down his cheek again. "…Don't let him destroy you too. Not you, Beyond. Please don't…"

And they cried to each others' shoulders when they walked to the room with the big window to the beautiful, snow white scenery. They were carrying four packets of different medications and bottles of water and wine.

A started sipping them down. B sat by his side, handing him over more and more pills. He gave A the alcohol which he had stolen from the kitchen. A had smiled at him.

"Why are you letting me die so easily..?" he had purred sleepily as B had held him on his lap, stroking his hair calmly.

"Because you don't belong in here anymore. I'd rather have you happily dead than living in pain."

B kissed A's lips as the numbers were running out.

A was still smiling as he buried his head in B's stomach. They didn't say anything. B just soothed him.

And the numbers reached zero.

For a while B just sat there. Sat holding the body of his best friend, of his lover, of his love.

Then he laid him gently on the floor after giving him a pillow and started slowly walking in haze, trying to find an adult to tell about A's suicide.

The voice in the back of his head nagged him. He kept walking as more and more blood was bled from the walls. The blood reached his knees, it stained him, splashed around as he moved his feet and filled his nose with its over sweet, deadly scent.

But A was swimming next to him with those dead blue lips of his. It was going to be fine.

His revenge on L was going to be just fine.

* * *

**A/N: **

...You might've noticed that it wasn't really supposed to be exactly like this. The style in the beginning differs from the style used towards the end. But. I'd like to know your opinions. Did you like it? Did you not like it? Did I manage to spurt out any tears?

You also might've noticed that I used in B's thoughts more the word "raining" than "crying". Rather odd, because raining is not the same as crying, not really. But that was what was in this story's B's mind: he simply feared the rain. He had a phobia for it, launched the day he got in a car crashed while it had been raining, stuck in a crushed car, blood dripping and rain falling as he saw his parents die, their corpses limply before him, unresponsive.

It is a big trauma. Even for our lil' B.

A on the other hand... in this one I imagined that his parents were killed. By a burglar or what? I don't know. Didn't think that detailedly. But probably right before their son's eyes, probably hidden somewhere.

Those were the thoughts I used with this. Thought you wanted to hear since I never really mention it clearly, I only left a few hints.

Also, in the end B finally snaps. I'm not sure if that came out as well as I would've wanted, he was slightly psychotic for the whole time, seeing the bleeding walls and such. But at the end, he finally really, _really_ loses it.

Because he had to have a reason to turn out a psycho. Everyone has their reasons for turning like that. I think A's death was the last straw for him. So... yeah.

Please review.** :3**


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